The French’s Fried Onions people can go to Hell

Being a good southern(ish) boy, I like things fried. So whenever I eat some pasta dishes or a casserole of any kind, I reach for my trusty can of French’s Fried Onions. There’s nothin’ in em but onions and the oil.

For years, the can’s looked like this:

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Perfect. Big, easy to open, keeps stuff fresh and you can shove your entire face into the can. Now, because they’re thoughtless assholes, they’ve changed their package design. Probably in the name of “corporate rebranding” or “enhanced product placement” or some other bullshit. This is what the new package looks like:

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Yeah, that sorry piece of crap. That’s me trying to shove my mitt down in there. What’s the first thing you wanna do when you pop off the lid? You wanna stick your grubby hands down into it and pull out a big handful of fried onions to eventually shove into your maw.

Instead, with this new god awful container, you can’t get more than four fingers down in there. If you expect to be able to move your fingers, you can stick in three and under no circumstance can you get your thumb down in there, too. Which means you can’t get any of them out of the container unless you stand on one leg, say a prayer, sacrifice a goat and pretend to tickle the bottom of this stupid container like some three-fingered sloth.

Terrible. Just terrible.

I’m switching to the store brand. I’ll never buy another can of French’s Fried Onions for as long as that can sticks around.

Dear Kitty Litter Companies

Today, while grocery shopping, I remembered that I needed kitty litter. I wandered over to the pet supplies and picked up my usual bucket of Fresh Step cat litter with carbon. I’ve tried every major brand of cat litter — every one of them. From the useless shards of paper posing as useful and effective to Fresh Step with Carbon, which is hands down the best litter out there.

I have two cats. They poop a lot. Into the cat litter. When I empty the litter boxes, I have a nifty little process:

1. Scoop out the clumps
2. Put clumps into old, empty, bucket of cat litter
3. Scoop new litter out of new bucket into litter boxes
4. Set old bucket, when full of clumps, by curb for trash man

This may seem odd, but it works very well. The rate the old bucket fills up is precisely the same as the rate the new bucket is depleted. The buckets are hard plastic, they have handles so it’s easy to carry the full, and heavy, buckets away. More importantly, they have lids I can snap back shut when it’s time to throw them away. I’m sure the trash man is happier for it. Heck, every time I’ve moved, I’ve actually moved the old bucket of cat litter with me. The movers thought it was weird, but I didn’t want to throw away the only half-full bucket of used litter.

Today, when buying my cat litter, I noticed a sticker on the top that read “COMING SOON! NEW LOOK!” Now, I hate new looks. I’m still mad they put Pepsi and ketchup in plastic bottles instead of glass bottles. I loathe plastic bottles. I don’t like the feel of them. I might as well be sleeping with a styrofoam cube, which is just as annoying to me as nails on a chalkboard.

So, naturally, I read the sticker on the lid and it said Fresh Step was going to divert all their packaging to cardboard boxes. Useless, shitty cardboard boxes useful for nothing else except transporting a bunch of litter from the store to the house. I can’t even get my measuring cup into a cardboard box. Shitty, shitty boxes. Pun intended.

Soon, I won’t be able to ┬áput my used litter clumps into a resealable container. Instead, I’ll be forced to put them in a bag and I will literally have to drag bags of shit to the curb for the trash man. Where, he’ll no doubt pick them up and become covered in little clumps of used litter.

So, to the fine people at Fresh Step, for the love of all that is worthwhile in this world, keep the plastic buckets and leave the cardboard boxes to cheap people that don’t know better. Otherwise, you might as well be taking a dump on our beloved trash collectors.